tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-308971622008-09-03T16:58:34.568-07:00Kimnoreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-63894188450610684342007-09-06T12:09:00.000-07:002007-09-06T12:12:39.680-07:00

Yes I was jealousBecause you are swornHow could you come undone to a word so strongMy beating heart the anchor to a ship so warmYou're supposed to have the answerYou're supposed to have living proofWell I am your answer I am living ~Cat Power "Living Proof" today was a fortune in the eyes of the night before. this morning i manifested new friends yet i already dread the long night ahead, for my

babaloniyonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15108010138420225315noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-74045367143471937902007-09-03T18:59:00.000-07:002007-09-03T19:00:51.095-07:00

why does piano music sound so much like life? a few hours ago we had a birthday dinner for Mr.Hobbledog. we have a lot of friends with children, so we have them early- started at four and everyone was gone by seven. that way all the families can maintain their schedules. the party has been picked up, the dishes washed. even the dishwasher cycle is over, and an empty sink congratulating it. i

hobbledoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11654801155933031866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-55114147460425454322007-07-15T19:12:00.000-07:002007-07-15T19:14:57.532-07:00

Today my son, who's 5, went to the hardware store with my husband so that they could pick up some wasp spray. When they got home, my child - the spawn of my peacenik loins - stood in the doorway, shook his tiny fist at the wasp nest and said in a quiet, Christopher Walken-esque voice, "The death squad is coming for you, you wasps." Where does he get this stuff? They have death squads on Noggin?

haikumamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12359285168049983137noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-38645742215485321102007-06-17T17:16:00.000-07:002007-06-17T17:32:06.078-07:00

the women in my family of origin were known for having raging mean cases of premenstrual syndrome. but the term "PMS" meant something altogether else. it is the monogram of the man in our lives, my stepdad, michael. when he and my mom re-met, in line at the grocery store, after decades of not knowing each other, he became the first producing artist i had ever met, the first texas trivia buff i

hobbledoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11654801155933031866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-70244263723958882192007-06-12T12:31:00.001-07:002007-06-12T12:31:41.231-07:00

on the mornings i wake up and there is no intense sun jetting through the tiny crack allowed by my curtains, my heart leaps. maybe it will rain!!!! i always play this game with myself, excitement and anticipation. maybe i feel like the rain will wash away sins, maybe it's a diversion, maybe things will cool off, maybe the grass will grow, maybe my boy will want to go puddle-diving with me and a

hobbledoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11654801155933031866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-20792740006794489452007-06-07T09:32:00.000-07:002007-06-07T09:46:28.704-07:00

we were approaching austin sunday night during the lightning storm. my heavens! we had dropped off the critter at my sister's house in kyle to spend the night, and were on our way to see mice parade at emo's. as we hit the city limits, we could see the lightning in panorama, literally covering the horizon and maintain a high tempo. it wasn't till i saw the first flash to the right, and not to

hobbledoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11654801155933031866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-3311736166602730122007-06-06T12:09:00.000-07:002007-06-06T12:10:22.663-07:00

I became a mother by surprise, the result of a spontaneous couch excursion as the male half was leaving to return a video. Nothing could have resurrected me from the solipsis and thrill-seeking like this peculiar brand of salvation did. And I named him thus... "Salvation." He is another person, and though I have a piquant sense of his childishness, I believe in his independence. Everyday I

hobbledoghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11654801155933031866noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-39919840333959302062007-05-28T12:46:00.000-07:002007-05-28T12:50:04.869-07:00

i feel like an idiot. its the dawning of another calendar block and the unshed thing feeds my rue for the day troubles stacked high enough to make a fine roost tucked away in places unreached by the whinnies of morning crows bundled in my darkest heart where only the strongest of beautiful repercussions grow hearty regretfully, i surrender /repose something about the weather everybody's

babaloniyonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15108010138420225315noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-86301175103920045252007-04-23T17:20:00.000-07:002007-04-23T18:36:22.236-07:00

I had a blast appearing on the Walking on Air with Betsy and Sal. We talked about moms Navigating the On-ramp, that is, transitioning from at-home to at-work for nearly 15 minutes. You can listen or download for free with itunes here: http://www.walkingonair.org/listeningbooth.htm (I appear about 30 minutes into the show.) Having peeked at my blog prior to my appearance, they complimented me on

Kim Moldofskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01370371961001629766blogger@moldofsky.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-33275710996653689622007-04-17T13:20:00.000-07:002007-04-17T13:38:29.328-07:00

I wasn't eavesdropping on a public cell phone conversation (not this time, anyway), this is from an episode of ABC's new show, Notes from the Underbelly.* Cooper, the never-say-pregnant career gal, advises her newly pregnant friend, the series protagonist Lauren, not to quit her job with these choice words: You can't just drop out of the working world and waltz back in. You'll be the annoying

Kim Moldofskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01370371961001629766blogger@moldofsky.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-39395003933534299542007-04-12T10:39:00.000-07:002007-04-12T10:46:08.992-07:00

I woke up this morning to find a huge purple bruise on my thigh from where I crashed into something on my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. After admiring my fabulous hematoma, I noticed one of my children had yellow gunk coming from her nose. Nice. Upon his waking, I saw that my other child had green gunk coming from his nose. Perfect. And the dog? Somehow the dog has given

haikumamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12359285168049983137noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-6209018286499469232007-04-11T21:03:00.000-07:002007-04-11T21:04:48.868-07:00

I'm scheduled to appear on a local women's talk radio show tomorrow to discuss re-entering the workforce after taking time off to care for children. Would anybody else obsess over what to wear for a radio appearance, or is it just me? (Note in my self-defense: I should look nice for the hosts and producers, shouldn't I?!)

Kim Moldofskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01370371961001629766blogger@moldofsky.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-58263860677960757822007-04-03T13:00:00.000-07:002007-04-03T13:11:30.416-07:00

so, yesterday i brave the microorganisim/virus/bacterial wasteland of the doctor's office to take my kids for their semi-routine check up. that's right folks....we go to the doctor's every two years whether we're sick or not. i know, i know. i should do it more often, at least according to conventional medical wisdom. it's just that i hate the fucking doctor's office. i have overwhelming

babaloniyonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15108010138420225315noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-3009308348263689342007-04-01T12:45:00.000-07:002007-04-01T12:48:33.815-07:00

i recently found myself in a situation that devolved into the type of drama that i pride myself for not humoring. yes, friends, i was the guest star in my own personal soap opera and this particular novella included a cameo appearance by a member of My Favorite Band. okay, i actually have three favorite bands but for the sake of this saga, it will be understood as my favorite and from here on,

babaloniyonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15108010138420225315noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-45279136799257337262007-03-20T12:19:00.000-07:002007-03-20T12:38:57.374-07:00

tomorrow is the spring equinox. 9 years ago on that day...i was initiated as a wiccan priestess. that same night, i met the man whose children i bore. nine years--nearly a decade of my life. i defined myself in terms i was never quite comfortable with. i was passive, fearful...moving at the pace of the tides that swept me in and out again. i'm not sure what the hell i was thinking...maybe

babaloniyonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15108010138420225315noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-53346912857900081882007-03-14T21:24:00.000-07:002007-03-14T21:27:20.747-07:00

and i'm still awake hands tired from rubbing and wringing ass tired from sitting mind tired from this crazy making i've let myself get bent up in pent up in the direction of a half right thing with a half seen nobody somebody, anybody, a body to throw my muses at flinging them musings out to an ocean of somebodies they fly from my fingers like cattail fluff the crouched down hunkering over the

babaloniyonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15108010138420225315noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-26089538510337498542007-03-13T09:25:00.000-07:002007-03-13T09:44:40.256-07:00

The cell phone rings. You know the routine. The woman, (or is it you?) says, "Oh my god, I'm sorry, I NEVER do this but this is my mom (dad, husband, kid, drycleaner, dishwasher repairman) and I've been expecting this call." And off goes the person (maybe it is actually you), the person you were talking to about your mother or your kids, onto the call. All very well and fine, because this is the

Nanci Olesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09732887183956474983noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-10745214518333777682007-03-12T10:55:00.000-07:002007-03-12T11:13:47.671-07:00

Hi there! I know we have a kind of rocky relationship, what with me cursing your name most of the time. But I want you to know that's all behind me now. So to speak. Even though you showed up almost immediately after my daughter was born and robbed me of the reprieve most nursing mothers enjoy... that's OK. Even though you were squirrly for two years and made it difficult for me to conceive

haikumamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12359285168049983137noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-70458106234997952482007-02-28T09:23:00.000-08:002007-02-28T09:36:18.874-08:00

Ok so I never thought of the tooth fairy as a monster before. But my husband long ago created this exceedingly wealthy mythical creature that pays $1 for the first tooth, $2 for the second, $3 for the third and so on. By the time the kid is 10, a lost tooth can wipe out my lunch budget for a week. So one awful week this winter, when the overdraft notices are in a stack, the debt collectors on the

A-Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08720662013700429395noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-70508876776721807852007-02-16T09:12:00.000-08:002007-02-16T09:16:24.297-08:00

moxie repenitent i have a confession to make. several, really...more than that, i just need to get some things off my chest. i've been at it again. yeah, you know it. eating carbs. damn that demon sugar, fuck that freaking flour...i'm a junkie, i think. i have dumped some serious pounds since my ex did the ol' split-ola, poof -and-gone routine back in the heat of august. was it really that hot,

babaloniyonihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15108010138420225315noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-47765462326548554722007-02-09T12:55:00.001-08:002007-02-12T09:15:45.855-08:00

When I ask you a question, can I listen all the way through to your answer? If you're my kid, and you are answering something about your day, can I really intently hear what you are telling me? Or am I thinking about the fact that you should be wearing a sweater or that you need a hair cut or that I have to go meet Grandma or that we have to start dinner? When I'm talking on the phone in my

Nanci Olesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09732887183956474983noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-25435665732988116142007-02-05T19:37:00.000-08:002007-02-05T19:51:44.088-08:00

Last weekend I shredded hundreds of documents from my largely defunct consulting business. These papers were a testimony to my professional life before (and a year or two after) becoming a mother. Perhaps I should have tucked some of them into a scrapbook as I do with my writing clips. My first client, my first Fortune 500 client, my first government contract are distant memories. I shredded

Kim Moldofskyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01370371961001629766blogger@moldofsky.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-76655447212407011982007-02-02T07:41:00.000-08:002007-02-02T07:54:14.804-08:00

What I think is interesting about arriving at a desk every morning is that the effort is so huge that I feel like I cannot waste any time. I have spent years and years working at a desk at my house and at my kitchen or dining room table. Now I am afforded a short window of time (four months) to pilot a project at a public radio station. I have a desk with a computer and all the amenities,

Nanci Olesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09732887183956474983noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-22420265104605679812007-02-01T14:08:00.000-08:002007-02-01T15:27:41.468-08:00

Instead of playing it cool, and waiting a reasonable amount of time before begrudgingly accepting my tag and illuminating the world with 5 little known things about me, I'm gonna bust into this as fast as I can. Partly this is because I'm a sucker, and partly this is because my wee babe is sleeping and my kiddo is watching the brain drain. Hooray! 1. When I was in the second grade I discovered

haikumamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12359285168049983137noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30897162.post-78691045283617723302007-02-01T12:01:00.000-08:002007-02-01T14:26:30.410-08:00

My ex-pal Kathie Sever tagged me yesterday. This means I had to actually THINK about something other than my puppy eating its own shit and the hawk trying to kill my lone surviving chicken... Kathie will regret her actions. Apparently it is WAY cool to get tagged and means you are part of that secret upper echelon of shiny peeps who have thick hair and white teeth, which explains why I'm just now

Kimnoreply@blogger.com